


Cold Comfort

by adrianna_m_scovill



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cold Weather, Declarations Of Love, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Near Death Experiences, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29218809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrianna_m_scovill/pseuds/adrianna_m_scovill
Summary: When a late-night incident leaves Barba in dire straits, Benson is the only one who can help him - if she can find him before it's too late.
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Olivia Benson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 108





	Cold Comfort

Benson opened her eyes in the darkness, suddenly alert but unsure why. She listened for sounds in the apartment and heard nothing out of the ordinary. Her skin felt prickly, though, like she was being watched—an unsettling feeling that made her heart rate kick up a notch. 

She caught movement from the corner of her eye and shoved herself up, reaching for the lamp on the nightstand even as she caught sight of the shadowy figure standing halfway between the bed and the door. It was a man—too large to be Noah, and her skin was cold with fear as she fumbled for the light.

“Liv.”

Her fingers managed to twist the switch and the lamplight filled the room, banishing the darkness into the corners. The man disappeared with them, but his voice echoed in her ears.

“Barba—” she said. 

She woke with a start, her heart slamming in her chest, her whole body shivering. The sound of her own voice pulled her from sleep, but it took long moments for her to understand that she’d been dreaming. She looked frantically around the room as she turned on the light, but she saw nothing. She was alone in the room, but she threw back the covers and got quickly from the bed. Her feeling of disquiet didn’t fade with the dream, and she grabbed her robe from the back of the door, slipping it on as she left the room. 

She hugged the robe around herself, realizing her shivers weren’t just from the lingering fear. She was cold, and she paused in the hallway long enough to check the thermostat before continuing on to Noah’s room. 

He was sound asleep, breathing evenly, the blankets half-flung off as he lay sprawled on his back. His room was silent except the sound of his soft snores.

She made a quick sweep of the apartment, checking the door and windows. It was snowing—sleeting, really, the icy wetness pattering against the panes. She tightened her robe, but her chill seemed to be filling her from the inside out. The apartment was warm, safe against the winter storm outside, but she shivered again as she returned to her bedroom.

It was just after midnight, and she tried to tell herself that her irrational urge to call Barba was both ridiculous and inconsiderate. He would surely be asleep, and what was she going to do? Wake him up to tell him she’d had a bad dream, and that she thought—the details were fuzzy—he’d been in it?

She carried her phone into her bathroom and turned on the light, looking at herself in the mirror. The brightness hurt her eyes, and she was sure that this time she was really awake. But still the uneasiness and chill lingered, and her fingers itched to dial Barba’s number just to hear his voice.

She turned and flipped on the shower, hoping the hot water would help her relax so she could go back to sleep. She shed the robe and pajamas and stepped into the spray, wincing as the heat stung her chilled skin. 

Trying not to let her hair get any wetter than necessary, she stood in the hot water until she could finally feel the chill easing from her bones, turning to let the hot water sluice over all of her skin. The bathroom was thick with heavy steam, and her body had finally begun to feel warm and sleepy when she finally turned off the water.

She shoved back the curtain to reach for a towel before the air could cool against her wet skin, and she took a startled step backward as a cry of alarm lodged in her throat.

Barba was standing in the middle of the bathroom, staring at her with wide eyes. He was soaking wet, his hair plastered to his head, and a trickle of blood from his hairline was smeared brightly across his forehead. He opened and closed his mouth but there was no sound. His hand trembled in the air as he reached toward her.

“Rafael,” she said, but he was gone by the time his name left her lips.

She blinked, looking toward the partially-closed door. There was no way someone could slip in or out without pushing it wider. She looked down at the rug, but there were no wet footprints where Barba had been standing, dripping wet, a moment ago. 

The blood was roaring in her ears, and she couldn’t seem to draw a deep breath in the thick steam. Her whole body was trembling again, but it wasn’t a chill this time. She was terrified without fully understanding why. Either she was losing her mind, or something else was happening; she wasn’t sure which explanation was more frightening.

She stumbled out of the bathtub, drying as quickly as possible before pulling on her robe without the pajamas. She managed to tie a bow with shaky hands and snatched up her phone, nearly dropping it into the sink. She hurried out of the bathroom. Her bedroom was deserted, the apartment still quiet. 

She called Barba’s number before she could talk herself out of it. If he was annoyed about being woken up in the middle of the night, she could apologize the next time she saw him and they could laugh about how ridiculous she’d gotten over a bad dream and a sleepy hallucination. 

His phone went directly to voicemail, and her stomach clenched with renewed dread. Barba _never_ turned off his phone, and he always carried a portable charger in his briefcase so he didn’t have to worry about his battery dying. 

She tried to calm herself with a deep breath. It was Saturday night, and he could’ve had a date. He wouldn’t have his briefcase for that, and he could’ve turned his phone to _do not disturb_ for privacy. Or it could be installing an update. Or he could be on the phone talking to someone else. 

There were plenty of possibilities, but none of them eased her worry as she paced the room. After a moment she walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, forcing herself to take several slow, deep breaths. _Calm down_ , she thought. _You had a bad dream, that’s it._

She tried to send a text but it failed to deliver to his phone. She called again and left him a voicemail asking him to call her when he got the message, even if it was the middle of the night, adding that everything was fine so he wouldn’t think something was wrong with her or Noah.

She wanted to call TARU and have his phone traced, but she knew that would be an invasion of his privacy _at best_. She had no real reason to think anything was wrong except an overactive imagination and the burning fear in her gut.

She’d long ago learned to trust her gut, though.

She got up and left the bedroom, unsure where to go or what to do. She decided to turn on the kettle for some tea; maybe that would calm her nerves while she waited for him to return her call.

She was filling the kettle at the sink when his voice spoke behind her.

“Liv?”

She gasped as she dropped the kettle with a loud clatter and splash of water, and she turned to see Barba standing a few feet away. He was still wet, but the water from his hair seemed to have washed away most of the smear of blood from his forehead. He had a split lip and the start of a black eye. “Rafael,” she said, starting toward him automatically.

“How did I get here?” he asked, and the fear and confusion in his eyes made her heart clench for him. There was a tremor in his voice, and his hands were shaking at his sides.

She didn’t know how to answer him, so she said the only thing she could think of: “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“Something’s wrong,” he said, raising a hand in front of himself to look at it. 

She reached for his arm, expecting to feel the cold wetness of his sleeve because of what her eyes were telling her, but she felt a dull lack of surprise when her fingers passed through his arm without resistance. She swallowed, doing her best to compartmentalize and close her fear off into a corner of her brain for the moment. 

Either she was hallucinating—having a psychotic break—or he was real, and the fear in his eyes seemed real enough. Until she knew what was going on, she had to roll with the situation.

“Liv,” he said again, looking from his arm up to her face. “I don’t—What’s—”

“Stay calm,” she said. Her voice sounded almost normal. 

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” he said, but his expression said otherwise. He didn’t want to acknowledge what they both feared was happening, but she couldn’t afford to shy away from it. 

“We’ll figure it out. Are you hurt?”

“I’m cold.” He paused to consider, his forehead wrinkling in concentration. “My head hurts. Mostly I’m cold.” He looked down at himself again, noting his soaked clothing. He was wearing khakis and a blue button-up, both clinging to his skin as he shivered. He was wearing blue and green argyle socks without shoes. He wasn’t wearing a coat, or even a sweater, despite the winter storm raging outside. 

“What’s the last thing you remember before this?”

“I don’t…” He raised a hand to his forehead, gingerly fingering his hairline. “I think I hit my head…” He sounded unsure, and she wanted to pull him into a hug and promise him he was safe.

She couldn’t do either.

“In your apartment?” she asked.

“I don’t think so. No, I…I had a date. Dinner…” He shook his head and made a small sound of frustration. “I can’t remember.”

“Okay, it’s okay. One step at a time. What was your date’s name?”

He thought for a few seconds. “Rachel…something. We met…we met at the bar a few nights ago, I asked her out for dinner.” He looked at Benson. “If I’m not gonna be okay, I need to tell you something before it’s too late.”

“Hush,” she said with a surge of panic. “You’re fine, we just need to figure out—”

He reached a hand toward her arm and they both watched his fingers pass through. “I don’t think I’m fine,” he said quietly. “Jesus, Liv, I’m sorry—I’m so sorry. And my mom—”

“Barba,” she said, her voice sharper than she intended. “I need you to focus so we can figure this out. You were on a date with Rachel. Did you leave together?”

He swallowed and shook his head, and she saw droplets of water fly from his wet hair. The kitchen floor was dry, though. “I saw her into a car, and…and I was walking.”

“Home? Were you close to your apartment?”

“I don’t think so. I think I just wanted to walk. Think.”

“In this weather?”

He glanced at the window. “It wasn’t snowing or raining or whatever. It was cold is all.”

“Okay, it started coming down around ten,” she said, looking at the clock on the back of the stove. “About three hours ago. Were you wearing a coat?”

“Yeah. Yes. I don’t…” He closed his eyes and swayed, and she reached for him even though she knew she couldn’t touch him. “I don’t feel so well,” he muttered, the words barely audible. “Liv, help—”

He seemed to flicker a few times and then he was gone, vanished without a trace, and she heard the break of fear in her own voice as she said, “No! Raf!”

She heard his voice ringing in her ears: _Liv, help…_

She hurried out of the kitchen and toward her bedroom, calling Lucy on the way to tell her there was an emergency and see if she could come stay with Noah. Benson had no idea where she was going but she had to do something, had to find Barba. He had to be alright.

After Lucy, she called TARU and asked them to trace Barba’s cell phone. She was afraid they would press her for a warrant, or at least more details, but luckily she’d earned herself a few favors over the years. She got dressed while she waited with a churning stomach, and the answer didn’t make her feel any better.

The last ping, at 10:27pm, put Barba—or at least his cell phone in Central Park. 

When she heard Lucy let herself into the apartment, Benson hurried out to meet her. “Thank you so much,” she said, barely aware of the words leaving her lips. “I don’t know how long I’ll be—” she was saying as she shoved her feet into her boots and grabbed her coat.

“It’s pretty bad out,” Lucy said when Benson reached for her purse. “You might want to bundle up.”

“Right,” Benson said, snatching her scarf from the coat rack. She needed to pause and think about what she was doing. She pulled her hat onto her head. “I’m just a little—”

“I was in the water.”

She whirled at the sound of Barba’s voice behind her, nearly dropping her purse in surprise. “What?”

“I was in the water,” he repeated, his forehead creased in confusion as he stared at her. “I don’t understand…”

“Are you alright?” Lucy asked, sounding concerned and a little confused, herself.

For a moment, Benson thought the nanny was talking to Barba, and she felt a modicum of relief. If Lucy could see and hear him, too, then at least Benson wasn’t having a psychotic break. 

But a quick glance at the young woman made it clear that Lucy was talking to _her_ , not Barba. “Yeah, I’m—Sorry, I thought I heard—Never mind. I’ll call you when I know something,” Benson said, throwing on her scarf and reaching for the door.

“She can’t see me,” Barba mused as he preceded her into the hallway. Benson closed the door behind herself and reached for his arm automatically before remembering she couldn’t touch him. “I think that means I’m—”

“Don’t say it,” she cut in. “I don’t know what’s happening but it’s not that. What were you saying about water?” 

He walked beside her, matching her long strides; she was in a hurry even if she didn’t know where she was going. “I was in water,” he said. “I’m not sure where or why.”

“I had TARU trace your phone because it’s off or—not working,” she said, stumbling briefly over the words as she shied away from saying it was _dead_. “The last location was Central Park around 10:30.”

“Yeah…Yes, I was walking in the park,” he agreed. He was rubbing absently at the front of his shirt as he walked, dragging the wet material against his skin. “I think…It doesn’t make any sense but I think I remember a boat?”

“Does your chest hurt?”

“Huh? Oh.” He looked down at his hand and lowered it to his side. “My ribs are sore now. My head hurts. I feel…achy, I’m not sure if it’s the cold or something else.”

“You have a fat lip and there was blood on your forehead earlier. It looks like maybe the start of a black eye, too.”

He stopped walking. “I got jumped. I remember. Sort of. They took my coat, wallet…”

She’d turned to look at him, but she motioned for him to keep walking. “We need to hurry.”

“What’s the point?” he asked, but he started moving again. 

“You said something about a boat. Water. Were you by the lake, maybe? The boathouse? It must be closed now, but there might be maintenance boats if the lake isn’t frozen. Or do you remember any bridges?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe. I was just walking. Clearing my head.”

“I take it the date didn’t go so well?” She held up a hand before he could answer. “Never mind, sorry.”

“You know I wanted—”

“I need to call in backup. Try to remember any small details,” she said as she pulled out her phone and dialed Fin. 

Barba trailed behind her while she talked on her phone. She told Fin that she was worried about Barba, that she thought he was injured somewhere in Central Park—perhaps by the boathouse—and that she’d already had TARU trace his phone. When she reached her car, she absently swiped the snow from the windows with her hand and arm. The sleet was stinging her face, the wind whipping at the hair not trapped beneath her hat. 

She got into the car and started the engine, hanging up her phone when Fin agreed to coordinate some officers and get back to her with a place to meet. 

When she realized Barba wasn’t getting into the car, she had a moment’s fear that he’d disappeared again while she wasn’t paying attention. Then she realized he was standing beside the passenger door, and she cursed herself for her distraction. She reached for her own handle to get out and ask if he needed help figuring out how to get inside, but before she could open her door he hunched over and passed through the side of the car to sit in the seat beside her.

“That was weird,” he muttered. 

“Can you feel the seat?”

“No, but let’s not talk about it or I might end up sitting in the street. I don’t understand anything. Where’re we going?”

“Do you remember anything else?” she asked, turning her attention away from him to concentrate on driving. “Anything to help narrow down your location?” 

“I got beat up. I think it was three guys? I don’t know. I must’ve blacked out, I remember waking up in a boat.”

“What kind of boat?”

“A plastic rowboat? But there weren’t any paddles. I didn’t have my cell phone. I think it was snowing by then. I wasn’t that far from shore so I tried to swim, but…Jesus, the water was so cold. So cold it felt _thick_ and my chest hurt, making it hard to breathe, and…” He trailed off, trying to remember.

“Are you still in the water?” she asked through numb lips, terrified of his answer. From the corner of her eye she saw him shake his head, and that was a small relief.

“I crawled up the bank a little, but...I don’t know. I must’ve passed out again.” The air blowing out of the vents had begun to warm, but he was shivering in the seat beside her. “What the hell was I thinking, wandering around—”

“This isn’t your fault,” she interrupted, and he made a small sound of amusement in spite of himself. “The only thing that matters right now is finding your—you. What happened to your shoes?”

“I think I kicked them off in the water. It’s hard to concentrate, like…trying to remember a dream.” He was hugging himself, and she wanted desperately to be able to warm him. She could hear the tremor in his voice, could hear the strain as he fought against the chatter of his teeth, but there was nothing she could do to help him. 

“You’ll be alright,” she promised.

He didn’t answer, but she knew he didn’t really believe her. 

“Just keep talking to me until we get there,” she suggested.

“She was nice, you know,” he said, his voice soft and trembly, and she glanced over at him. “Smart, funny, pretty. Polite.”

“Who—Rachel?” she asked, her stomach clenching as she realized what he was talking about. This wasn’t the conversation topic she’d had in mind.

“There was nothing wrong with her.”

“There’ll be plenty of time for you to—”

“Except…”

“—call her when we—Except?”

He turned his head to look at her in the muffled glow of the city. The wipers were busy swishing the snow and sleet away and the shadows slid across his face with each arc; she found herself wondering how that was possible, that he could pass through the metal of the car but the shadows still played across his features.

“I don’t know why you can see and hear me right now, Liv, I don’t understand any of this, but if this is my last chance to talk to you, if I’m supposed to resolve the things I never said—”

“No,” she said, blinking back the sting of tears. “Wherever you are, I’m going to find you and I’m going to save you, and you can decide what you want to say then.”

He fell silent beside her, rubbing at his wet arms with shaking fingers as she drove through the snowy night. 

“But if anything ever does happen,” she said finally, shooting him another glance, “I hope you know I’ll look in on your mom. She wouldn’t be alone.”

He turned his face away from her. There was a break in his voice when he said, “Thank you.”

“But I’m not losing you tonight. Do you remember where you started into the park?”

“Yeah,” he said, perking up a little as they got close and he pointed her in the right direction. “I remember, I walked by the John Lennon memorial.” She turned on her flashers when she pulled up to the entrance, and she called Fin to let him know where she was starting—Strawberry Fields was nowhere near the boathouse where the sergeant was headed. When she turned her head to ask Barba for confirmation, however, the seat beside her was empty.

_No, no, no_ , she thought, scrambling out of the car and into the swirling snow and sleet. Without Barba’s guidance she wasn’t sure where to go, but she couldn’t wait around hoping he would reappear. She tugged her hat down over her ears and looped her scarf around her neck before hurrying along the trail. Her best option—her _only_ option—was to head toward the shoreline of the lake. 

The snow was sticking to her eyelashes and wetting her cheeks, and she tried not to think about how long he’d been out in the cold, with no coat or shoes, soaking wet and presumably unconscious. 

“I can’t really feel the cold anymore,” he said, and she nearly fell as she whipped her head toward the sound of his voice and skidded on the slick trail. “Everything’s sort of numb.”

“Are we close?” she asked. “Do you remember being around here?”

“I can’t remember, everything’s fuzzy, but I think we’re close.” He pointed, and she started in that direction without hesitation. “I don’t know how I keep coming back to you. Maybe instead of a house, I’m haunting you.”

“That’s not funny,” she said. She could see a glimmer of water and she hurried toward it, squinting against the slanting precipitation as she scanned the darkness. She hadn’t even brought a flashlight. She never should’ve headed out into the park alone, with no supplies or plan. She wasn’t thinking clearly or rationally, letting her worry about Barba cloud her judgement and override decades of training. 

“There,” Barba said, and she saw the shadowy mound a moment later. 

“Oh my God,” she said, rushing toward the body. “Rafa.”

Barba held back, afraid to get too close. “Am I dead?” 

She ignored him as she slid on the icy grass and dropped to her knees beside the body. He was facedown, and his skin was cold against her fingers when she fumbled along his neck for a pulse. 

When she felt the faint beat of his heart, her rush of relief made her hands shake. She grabbed his shoulder and hip, slipping on the slick ground as she struggled to roll him onto his back. 

“Please, stay with me,” she said, stripping out of her coat and doing her best to wrap it around him. “Please, Rafael.”

“Liv,” Barba said, “if it’s too late—”

“Stop it,” she snapped without looking back at him. She’d gotten out her phone and she called Fin. He could get help to her quicker than if she tried to call an ambulance herself and explain the situation. She was barely aware of what she was saying, but Fin’s calm voice was reassuring. 

“Olivia,” Barba said when she dropped her phone onto the wet, icy ground and leaned down over the body, “I don’t feel anything. Not the cold, not…not you touching me—”

She cupped her hands against his clammy cheeks, leaning down close. His face was alarmingly pale in the darkness. “Rafael,” she said quietly, holding him, barely aware of the hot tears cutting tracks down her own cold cheeks, “listen to me, you’re gonna be alright, okay? I’ve got you, just stay with me and we’ll get you warmed up.”

“Liv, I think—”

“Don’t you dare give up on me,” she said, her voice harsh as she looked over her shoulder at him. He could see the tears shining in her eyes, and he would give anything to erase her pain. “Fight, goddammit.”

“I don’t know how,” he said, his voice cracking as he saw her face beginning to crumple. “I can’t—Liv, I love you.”

She shook her head and drew a shaky breath, the shadows shifting across her face as her expression hardened. “Then you fight and stay with me,” she said, turning away from him and bending down over his body. She leaned down and pressed her forehead against his; his skin felt icy, and she cursed herself for not being more prepared, for not bringing a blanket or something to help warm him. “Please, Rafael,” she begged, unable to keep the hoarse desperation from her voice. “We’re almost there, I promise. You can hold on a little while longer. I’ve got you.”

She lifted her head to look at him, praying that she wasn’t too late. She couldn’t lose him. Not him, too. 

His eyelids fluttered open and her heart stumbled in her chest.

“Stay with me,” she repeated. “Please. Keep your eyes open,” she said, laying down over his body because she didn’t know what else to do. He made a small sound and she knew she was probably hurting him, especially if he had cracked ribs or other injuries. But keeping him from freezing to death was more important. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, help will be here soon, stay with me,” she said, wrapping an arm around his head and pressing her cheek against his. “Put your hands inside my shirt.”

She wasn’t sure if he could hear her, or if he could lift his arms, but after a few seconds she felt his icy fingers creep beneath the hem of her shirt to find her warm skin. She shivered at his touch but pressed closer, trying to give him all of her heat. 

“We’re okay,” she promised near his ear. 

* * *

“Liv?”

She opened her eyes and leaned forward, her heart speeding at the sound of his voice. She felt an indescribable rush of relief when she saw his green gaze focused on her, and she got up and moved her chair closer to his bed. “Hey, there,” she murmured with a smile, unable to stop the tears from pricking her eyes. “It’s good to see you awake.”

“How long have I been out?” His voice was hoarse, and he looked terrible. His face was pale except the pink patches of dry skin on his cheeks and nose, and he had a darkening bruise beneath one eye. His lips were chapped and cracked, and split in one spot. 

But he was alive, and talking, and her fingers didn’t pass through his arm when she touched him.

“We’ve been here in the hospital for a few hours. You didn’t lose any fingers or toes but they’ve got you on pain meds so don’t worry if you doze off. You’ve got an IV to keep your fluids up, and you have one cracked rib so don’t try to move too much. Let me know if you need a nurse. It’ll be morning soon, I can call your mom if you want. When we got here you asked me to wait to do that, I don’t know if you remember?”

He nodded against the pillow, studying her. “I’m not sure what was real and what was…hallucination, though,” he muttered after a moment. 

“At this point I’m not sure, myself,” she answered, and his cracked lips twitched into a small smile. “But what matters is that you’re okay.”

“Were you…” He licked at his chapped lips, his gaze slipping involuntarily down to her chest. “Was I in your bathroom…at some point…?”

“Of course you remember boobs,” she said, and he laughed carefully as his eyes flicked back up to hers, “even after everything else that happened.”

“Had to have some reason to live,” he murmured with a small, tired smile as they regarded each other. “I’m sorry,” he said after a few moments of silence.

“It’s not like you did it on purpose.”

“About all of it. You know, I…” He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “We both know you saved my life, and I don’t know how or why it happened, but I do know that when I thought I was dying it was you I was thinking about, when I was cataloguing the mistakes of my life my biggest regret—” He stopped abruptly and sighed, closing his eyes. 

“Rafael.”

“I’m sorry. It’s been a long, strange night, and you should be home, Liv.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” he admitted without looking at her. She saw his throat bob as he struggled to swallow. Before she could offer to help him get a drink, he said, “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Then I’m not leaving. Lucy’s with Noah, and—”

“There was nothing wrong with her except she wasn’t you.” He opened his eyes, his bright gaze finding hers. “I don’t want to just be with someone because I’m lonely, I don’t want to live my life wondering what could’ve been, especially if this is some sort of second chance. I said it once when I thought it was too late but I won’t say it again now, not when you know I’m drugged and grateful to be alive, but it’s still true. When I get out of here, if you don’t want to hear it, I’ll respect that.”

“Here,” she said, picking up the cup of water from the bedside table and tipping it carefully to his lips. He drank obediently, letting the cool liquid soothe his scratchy throat. “When we get out of here,” she said as she lowered the cup, “if you decide you still want to say it? I promise I want to hear it.”

Another smile turned up the corners of his lips, and his green gaze was soft as he regarded her. She half-rose from her seat and leaned forward to press a kiss to his forehead. He had a small gash at his hairline, and she said a silent prayer of thanks that he wasn’t more seriously injured. 

Their best working theory was that the group of men who jumped him stole his belongings and tossed his unconscious body into a nearby boat, shoving it out into the lake. Maybe they thought he was dead and were trying to buy themselves time. All she knew for sure was that her squad _would_ find the men and they would wish they’d never laid eyes on Rafael Barba, let alone a finger.

“Get some sleep,” she whispered, running a light touch over his cheek before settling back into her chair. 

“Stay with me,” he breathed softly.

“Yes,” she agreed.


End file.
